


you're the only sound that i ever want to hear

by punkrockbadger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Marly.” Gideon, more commonly known as Gid, whispers, leaning across the table dramatically. His curly, auburn hair is falling into his russet brown eyes, as he leans forward, a goofy grin pasted onto normally serious features. Owing mostly to the bottle of whatever his twin, Fabian, had left behind when he was over last night. “Let’s get married, Marly.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the only sound that i ever want to hear

[1978]

“Marly.” Gideon, more commonly known as Gid, whispers, leaning across the table dramatically. His curly, auburn hair is falling into his russet brown eyes, as he leans forward, a goofy grin pasted onto normally serious features. Owing mostly to the bottle of whatever his twin, Fabian, had left behind when he was over last night. “Let’s get _married_ , Marly.”

“Sure this isn’t just you freaking out about almost being thirty-five, old man?” Marlene McKinnon, half of the infamous GidandMarly, smirks as she stubs her cigarette out in the ashtray. She’s hardly the type of girl any other man would approach, what with her dirty blond hair buzzed short just like the boys’ and the three piercings in her right ear. But Gid has never had to come to her, because he has always been there. It could be worse, she thinks, and rolls with the punches. “The infamous Prewett fertility might run out before you bag a girl who’s willing.”

“You’re willing.” He points out, left hand running through his hair, as he smiles. It never falls flat, but he seems to believe that running his hand through it provides some sort of temporary illusion of order. “Always been.”

“You’ve got a point, there, mister.” She shrugs. “Why not?”

“Why not?” He repeats, looking awestruck, and she reaches across the table to ruffle his hair. He needs to get it cut, soon, she notes absently, because they always tend to keep each other in line with those small, routine things that they don’t have time to notice on themselves.

“Ask me again when you’re sober, Gid.” She whispers before standing up, planting a kiss on his flushed red cheek before going upstairs to their bed. She stops at the top of the stairs and calls down to him, sounding nervous in a way she never has before. “I promise I’ll say yes.”

“Uh huh.” He says, words dripping with the particular brand of wry sarcasm that she’s come to love, over their years and years together. “Damn right you will. I’m a bloody catch, I am.”

“You are.” She says, allowing the slightest note of fondness to creep into her voice, and closes the door of their bedroom behind her.

They get married a month later, in the middle of November, a quick exchange of vows and old, beaten up rings they found in a pawn shop that occurs in their horrifically dirty living room. Gid sets about mailing the papers necessary to the Ministry the next morning, and Molly nearly throws a tantrum when she finds out during the next Weasley Family Sunday Dinner, which Fabian does not attend because he is busy with his “flavor of the month”, as Molly calls his latest boyfriend.

“That’s hardly a _wedding_ , Marly, Gid, we’ll need to have a real one.” She grumbles, obviously cross, and Arthur laughs, glasses nearly flying up his nose as he tips his head back.

“There’s hardly any chance of getting good old Marly here into a dress, Mols. Might as well step back while you’re ahead.” She shoots him an annoyed glance and Arthur puts his hands up, grinning wide.

“When this bloody war’s over,” Gid says, slightly hoarse from yelling commands during the skirmish they braved to get here, “we’ll have a wedding. A good and proper one, like Jamie and Lily’s.”

Molly smiles, satisfied, and tells them that she has all sorts of plans that will work perfectly for them. Gid smiles and pretends to be interested, and his fingers lace themselves between Marly’s under the table to form an unbreakable lattice while they nod and smile at Molly’s effusive burst of ideas.

They never do get that wedding.

* * *

 

[1979]

It’s hilariously ironic, Marly realizes, that she is writing a note to Molly in late June to tell her that she should expect a nephew in November, when she receives the same note from Molly, except with a due date of the next March. “Me too ‘cept November”, she scribbles on the back, and is completely prepared for Molly coming bursting through the fireplace half an hour later.

“Oh, our boys will be the best of friends!” Molly squeals, and Marly laughs. They are both afraid, afraid to be bringing boys into this war that do not deserve to be here, do not deserve to grow up held by the hands of murderers, and it’s suspended between them like a secret. But so far, Mol’s older ones have been fine. Fred and George, only a few months old, are Marly’s favorites, already causing mischief and laughing maniacally at anything she says. Percy tugged at one of her piercings and asked if it hurt, once, and she hasn’t spoken to him since.“Don’t you think?”

“As much as Gid and Fay are, I’d say.” Marly shrugs. Gideon and Fabian are as alike as the moon and the sun, but they still stand shoulder to shoulder whenever both are remotely near each other. An instinct, Gid had called it, a need to be near him. Fay never stands on his right. That honor is solely hers.

“I hope so.” Molly’s eyes shine bright with unshed tears and Marly hugs her, because fear is easier to bear when shared. And this fear is shared, shared between her and Molly and Dor and and Alice and Lily and all the other women entrenched in this war, healers and Aurors alike, and their husbands that disappear for weeks and months at a time. “I really, really, _really_ hope so.”

Callum Fabian Prewett is born on the fifteenth of November, and his cousin, Ronald Bilius Weasley, follows three months and two weeks later.

Nineteen years later, Ron, when asked, does not even remember his cousin’s name.

* * *

 

[1980]

Cal grows and grows and Gid is mesmerized by his son’s antics, chuckling softly as he ruffles Cal’s hair, dirty blond like Marly’s, and wipes the tears from his son’s eyes, so like his own. He comes straight home from missions instead of stopping by Headquarters, just to hold Cal before bedtime, and only stops this when Dumbledore suggests that new fatherhood isn’t a reason to risk the safety of the entire group. Gid stammers out an apology and starts delivering rapid fire mission summaries.

And as the world around him grows darker and darker, Cal only grows brighter and brighter, and urges little Ron to do the same. And Ron tries to catch up, but the poor kid is outpaced by all his older brothers on a daily basis. Gid says Ron reminds him of himself and passes him sweets under the table, and everyone else pretends not to notice.

Of the cousins, Bill and Charlie, in particular, baby their cousin and youngest brother equally, and seeing Bill with Cal balanced on his hip and Charlie with Ron, running around to show them the coolest things they’ve discovered, is not an uncommon sight around the Burrow.

In August, Cal learns to walk, and that is the beginning of the end for any hope Marly had for her son being a straightedge, studious prefect like his father. He is rolling in mud and eating bugs before she can even tell him to stop, and Fabian hugs him despite the fact that his nephew smells like a barn and is getting muddy handprints all over his fancy robes.

Marly approaches Molly in September, and Molly knows the look in her eyes before she has to say something.

“Oh, good, another boy?” She asks, nonchalantly stirring the pasta sauce. “We’re hoping that we’ll get a girl, if we try again.”

Marly nearly shrieks at the sound of the words “try again” coming from Molly Weasley’s mouth, because honestly, one boy is enough trouble for Marly and Molly’s got six (although Percy and Ron, bless their hearts, aren’t hardly as much trouble as the others).

In December, Molly tells them that it’ll be a girl, this time.

Neither Gid, nor Marly, meets their only niece.

* * *

 

[1981]

Little Gabriel Marcus is born at the very end of January, with a shock of bright red hair to match his cousins, right before his father and uncle leave on a months long mission, and Gid kisses Marly, Cal and Gabe goodbye without knowing that this is the last time they will all be together and alive. The scheduling is bad, Gid remarks, as he tosses Cal up in the air one last time, and Cal laughs.

When Gid returns, Fay by his side, in late June, the house is empty of anything but dust. There are no footfalls, no one and a half year old running to the door to meet him, screaming “Daddy”. There are no telltale baby gurgles. And he realizes why, minutes in, when he absently notes that the door was open and he’d walked straight through without realizing a single thing was wrong.

He kneels in the middle of their living room, exactly on the spot he’d married Marly in just barely two and a half short years ago, and cries, Fay’s hand squeezing his shoulder as he checks the wards.

Gid stands suddenly, hearing a series of cracks that could mean nothing but Apparition, and his last thought before he and Fay are struck by green bursts of light from every direction is that goddamn it, Dumbles was right about going to headquarters first.


End file.
